Frontier Scum, Scene I: The Purple Belt Saloon

[Stormbringer]

Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn & every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night

— William Blake


PALACE, THE DUST BARRENS

Palace is the loathsome pinnacle of civilization within the western Dust Barrens’ arid hills, but no kinder for its station. Once a proud city-state, now little more than a crumbling labyrinth of collapsed mines, battered buildings, and broken dreams. Homesteaders, exiles, bushwhackers, and deserters abide by the code of the borderlands, where laws are lacking, only honor among thieves ensures cooperation, and rights are settled by gunfights. Incorporation carpetbaggers have often attempted to enforce land claims, but acquisitionists rarely survive their encounter with the Redrum Boys, an outlaw gang who see themselves as masters of the fledgling breakaway state. They leave a few alive, stripped of all but their clothes and a pound of flesh poorer for their efforts, to tell the tale to other would-be capitalists.

Artham "Crusty Scrotum" Scotum, Parcheval “Roach” Meskaró, Cornelius St John Cumflutter III and Stacob “Cadaver Kid” Pains are sitting in a saloon known as the Purple Belt, celebrating their recent success in breaking into the mayor's home and fencing whatever they could carry out, which earned them an extra fifteen silver each (not to mention a one-hundred dollar bounty increase...each). The Purple Belt is renowned for its tasteless décor (lit by horse-shaped candles, while paintings of alligators hang from the walls), as well as famous for its avian auctions, where drunken patrons bid absurd prices for the carrion birds known as 'blood vultures' that trappers bring in from the desert—a prize delicacy 'round these parts.

Amid all the clamour of the saloon, our four characters are wondering what their next target should be, when two interesting options present themselves.

The first came in the form of a bankrupt rancher named Fenapple, who they got talkin' with after they first walked in. Fenapple says a rival rancher—Clammon by name—put him straight outta business, and he wants revenge, plain and simple. He'd love for you to help him out, and it won't cost you a penny. If you're looking to make a lotta money, why don't you rustle rancher Clammon's cattle—all forty of them—and run them north, down Bonesome Gulch, which spits you right out at the other end in the Big Nothing: the Outlaw Union's territory. Once you're there you're in the clear: no Dust Barrens lawman can touch you once you're through the Gulch. The cattle are worth twenty-five silver per head in Sickwater. If you make it through with all forty, that's one-thousand silver waitin' for ya on the other side. Split it between the four of ya and that's two-hundred-fifty each. How about that? Fenapple don't want any cut of the money...he's just looking to see old Clammon suffer: that's reward enough.

The second proposal came from the ham-fisted bartender himself, who overheard the prior conversation. "Stay well away from cows", he said. Cows give him the shivers. Used to be a rancher himself, but now he won't touch a cow with a ten-foot-pole. If you're looking for some cash, he's got a better idea. He tells you about a place called Horsehead Ranch. Horsehead Ranch was a luxury resort for city slickers out east who wanted to brag about roughing it in the wild frontier, without having to endure the usual danger or discomfort. Butlers tended to the patrons while they were protected by armed guards. The name stems from an unusual practice by the owners, the Miser family. The greedy Misers thought it was a waste to just bury their priced racing horses when they died, so they had them decapitated and hung the stuffed heads along the walls of the lodge. But not even the ranch could escape the unforgiving fate of the Dust Barrens. The ranch has long been abandoned and today is just another relic of Palace’s more glorious past.

Now, the barkeep informs you that just yesterday he overheard two drunken members of an outlaw gang known as the Loudmouths announce that they're using the old Horsehead Ranch as their base at present. The Loudmouths are led by three wanted outlaws: Mumbling Manny, Tantrum Tammy and Rambling Randy. Now these three each have a twenty silver bounty on their heads, which ain't much, but according to these drunken fools he overheard yesterday, they have a safe on site which contains no small amount of loot! Now, only Tammy, Randy and Manny know the safe combination, but they don't trust anyone else in the gang, so they split up the combination between the three of them. Maybe worth checkin' out?

The gang ponders which of these jobs they ought to consider...

[Wrathbone]

I take a sip of whatever passes for whisky in these parts and lean back in my chair.

“Not that I’d be fussin’ over which of these fine schemes we direct ourselves to, fellas, but I ain’t gots no beef with the rancher, nor his cattle. I heard of these so called Loudmouths, though, back from my days of law enforcing and whatnot. Could be a worthy take and we gets to put some folks worse than us in the ground. That’s as far as my thinkin’ takes me.”

[Sly Boots]

Doc Scrote shakes his head ruefully.

"I ain't no rancher," he says, "but I treat plenty of 'em who've ended up stepped on, run through or crushed betwixt. It's a wonder the mess these beasts can make of a man. And that's before you consider who else in these parts might happen upon a pilfered herd and decide they have a better claim on 'em."

He lights a smoke, takes a lungful and lets out a grey cloud while staring thoughtfully into the middle distance. Below the table, Jinx lets out a heavy sigh. "Now, I have no patic'lar grievance with these Loudmouth fellas, but it strikes me that takin' on a trio of low-down varmints is a sight less taxing than 40."

[Mantis]

Parcheval puts on his reading glasses and begins repeatedly shuffling his deck of cards, as he is won't to do when pondering any conundrum. Eventually he stops.

"I ain't no rancher but I ain't no fighter either. Extracting information from those folks might not be pretty if they've got a mean stash locked away in that safe."

"That said, I am leaning towards some lowlife rustling. Doc's right, our odds at dealing with them are much better than trying to handle a horde of bovine."

"Besides, cows scare old Clint," he says as he fondly ruffles the chickens feathers.

[Animalmother]

Cornelius St John Cumflutter III takes a thoughtful drag on the tip of his ivory cigarette holder. The sweet smelling tobacco does little to mask the pungent aroma of his unwashed companions or the retched establishment they currently find themselves in.
"Bovines are best experienced either on the dinner plate or as a pair of exquisitely made footwear. Alive and defecating willy nilly, I do not care for."
This was meet with an array of blank stares.
"The safe would be a more agreeable proposition", he clarified.

[Wrathbone]

“Gentlemen, I do believe we have an accord.”

I check my revolver is loaded, finish the bitey whisky and head outside to find my trusty stolen grey nag, who I’ll name Horace.

[Sly Boots]

"I'll drink to that!" announces Doc Scrote, taking an unmodest swig from a bottle of his home-brewed "cure-all", the origins of which he refuses to elaborate upon.

I assume I'll have to roll to see if it poisons me

[Stormbringer]

...taking an unmodest swig from a bottle of his home-brewed "cure-all", the origins of which he refuses to elaborate upon.

I assume I'll have to roll to see if it poisons me

Well now, I don't have it on record that you have any such item on your person at this time, save a bottle of Laudanum. You're welcome to drink that...but then you'd have one less dose when you might actually need it. Maybe buy some booze from the bar?

Prices are as follows:

Tea, milk optional - 1s/pot
Beer - 1s/glass
Whiskey - 2s/shot (or 8s/bottle)
Gin - 2s/glass (6s/bottle)
Wine - 6s/glass (or 20s/bottle)


As for this...

I ... finish the bitey whisky

Stacob Pains will need to pay for that whiskey: that'll be $2 if it's a single shot, or $8 if it's a whole bottle.

Also, he'll need to roll to see if it effects him: test Grit, Cadaver Kid! (d20+3)

[Sly Boots]

...taking an unmodest swig from a bottle of his home-brewed "cure-all", the origins of which he refuses to elaborate upon.

I assume I'll have to roll to see if it poisons me

Well now, I don't have it on record that you have any such item on your person at this time, save a bottle of Laudanum. You're welcome to drink that...but then you'd have one less dose when you might actually need it. Maybe buy some booze from the bar?

Could we not assume that sometime during their last adventure and journey to this fine establishment, Doc Scrote took the opportunity to craft some of his patented sewer-slop elixir?

This is mainly for flavour text and possible dire consequences, I don't expect to gain any positive benefits from it lol

[Wrathbone]

Stacob Pains will need to pay for that whiskey: that'll be $2 if it's a single shot, or $8 if it's a whole bottle.

Also, he'll need to roll to see if it effects him: test Grit, Cadaver Kid! (d20+3)

I briefly consider waving my gun in the direction of the bar to dissuade the demand for payment, but I toss a couple of dollars at the barman for the shot and thank him for the lead on the Loudmouths.

Grit test: 5 + 3 = 8. This is not good whisky.

[Stormbringer]

...taking an unmodest swig from a bottle of his home-brewed "cure-all", the origins of which he refuses to elaborate upon.

I assume I'll have to roll to see if it poisons me

Well now, I don't have it on record that you have any such item on your person at this time, save a bottle of Laudanum. You're welcome to drink that...but then you'd have one less dose when you might actually need it. Maybe buy some booze from the bar?

Could we not assume that sometime during their last adventure and journey to this fine establishment, Doc Scrote took the opportunity to craft some of his patented sewer-slop elixir?

This is mainly for flavour text and possible dire consequences, I don't expect to gain any positive benefits from it lol

All right, sounds good! First, tell me what you've mixed up in that bottle and roll me a Wits test (2d20) to see how the process went...

[Stormbringer]

Grit test: 5 + 3 = 8. This is not good whisky.

The whiskey has affected you a bit...

Your GRIT is now -1 and your LUCK is 3 until you sleep or sober up.

[Wrathbone]

Does Doc Scrote have anything resembling the Wild West equivalent of Gaviscon?

[Mantis]

As we're gathering up our things and getting ready to leave, Parcheval presses the bartender for more information.

"I say, good sir, how long of a ride eastward might this Horsehead Ranch be? And what kind of terrain might we find ourselves dealing with as we travail?"

[Stormbringer]

"Oh, it ain't far, sir. Just outside the city, headin' southward-like, not east. When I said 'east' before, I meant the city-folk, out east, used to come to Palace to stay at the ol' Horsehead for some rural 'Western' charm. Ha!"

He spits into a glass before wiping it with a used handkerchief.